I'm so surprised at the reaction to this story. I know I'm always saying how appreciative I am and such, but I really am. I hope all of you who read this story know that! As someone who loves to write, your feedback is like chocolate or Sour Patch Kids or... Well, you get it!
Confession: Chuck Bass fascinates me. All the characters are complex in their own ways, some more than others, but Chuck has so many layers, so many nooks and crannies... He is hands down my favorite character to write, Blair coming in second. This story will explore some of those layers for both of them while still keeping them as 'Chair.'
THINGS I OWN: A newfound obsession with antiques that is driving my parents crazy. THINGS I DON'T OWN: Gossip Girl.
"I still don't understand why you're throwing a party for a man you don't know," Blair stated, sitting idly by while her mother directed the hired help about. "And I really don't understand why I have to be there."
"Everyone knows Bart Bass, dear, just not personally. And you have to be there because you are my daughter and I said so," Eleanor replied. "No! Not there! Over by the doorway!" A decorator carrying a very large flower arrangement swayed as he turned and obeyed the directions Eleanor had barked at him. "Go upstairs and start dressing. It'll take you a while to hide those bags under your eyes," she said, turning back to her daughter.
Blair didn't reply. She showed no emotion at all, in fact. She stood obediently and took the stairs to her room. She closed the door behind her and latched it, feeling the safety her room granted her envelope her. With a deep, cleansing breath, she sat in front of her vanity mirror to study herself.
People told her she was beautiful all the time. They complemented her shiny hair, her ruby lips, her flawless porcelain skin and expressive eyes. She was quite often told she resembled a porcelain doll. She took great care of her figure – far more care than anyone would ever know – and decorated it with only the most stylish and expensive labels. Hearing she was beautiful was not uncommon. Believing it, however, was impossible.
When she looked in the mirror, she didn't see the glossy hair or pouty lips. She saw a mousy head of brown hair and lips that could never be full enough, despite the products she applied. She saw skin full of pores and eyes that were more doe-like than alluring. She didn't like her nose and her breasts weren't big enough. Her legs were stick-like and her knees were knobbly. There was a running list of things she found wrong with her appearance that grew from week to week. Today, she had to add the dark circles beneath her eyes as pointed out by her mother.
Only she knew why she was so sleep deprived. She was the only one who truly knew why she awoke so early and returned home so late. Dorota had suspicions, she suspected, but her loyal Polish maid would never broach the subject. Blair reasoned Dorota had plenty of other suspicions as well that she kept to herself. That was partly why Blair adored Dorota so much. Not only had the woman been more like a mother than her own mother, she also knew when to shut up.
With a glance at the clock, Blair stood and went to her closet to select her outfit. She opened the door to reveal a wardrobe bag carefully draped over the chair within the walk-in space. She sighed as she unzipped it. It was, of course, a Waldorf original, meant for her to wear to this soirée. It was beautiful, as were all of her mother's designs. It was the pressure that came with it that she despised.
She laid the dress on her bed and selected the shoes and accessories she would wear before stepping into the bathroom. It was then that the toilet caught her eye.
It had been the furthest thing from her mind when she walked into her room. Her intentions as the door had shut behind her had been to see just how bad the bags under her eyes were and devise a plan to hide them before stepping into the shower. But the porcelain fixture called to her, beckoned her forward. Blair tried to fight the urge, but images of the warm croissant smeared with butter she had had for breakfast and the grilled salmon she had devoured for lunch swam in her vision.
With an expertise of someone who had been doing this for quite some time, she turned on the shower and, to be safe, the sink as well. She took a hair band from a cannister on her sink and tied her hair back before kneeling before the toilet. With a careful placement of her finger, the deed was done.
Gracefully, she rose to her feet and flushed the toilet. She brushed her teeth before turning off the sink and undressing. She pulled her hair band out and let her hair tumble around her shoulders, then stepped under the spray of hot water. It was so routine, so robotic, that Blair barely comprehended what she was doing any more.
She wanted desperately to cry. Her breeding made her suppress it, but she was terrified that one day, all the times she had pushed back the tears would catch up with her and she would cry uncontrollably. Her mascara would run and her eyes would swell and there would be nothing she could do to prevent it. She held too much in too often for her not to one day break down completely.
From the outside, she had it all. She was the Queen, the girl every other girl at Constance wanted to be or to at least be on the good side of. She was at the top of her class and her resume was so impressive she was certain every Ivy would be knocking on her door, not that it mattered as she was headed to Yale. She was the girlfriend of one of the most popular guys on the Upper East Side and mutterings that the Vanderbilt ring would be hers soon enough were heard from time to time. Being the daughter of a world-famous fashion designer and a highly sought-after lawyer certainly had it's perks as well, despite the nasty divorce and the fact that her father now had a boyfriend in France.
And yet, Blair felt completely alone. Her best friend, the one person she had always been able to count on, had disappeared without a trace. Or nearly without a trace as Serena's mother knew where she was and refused to breathe a word. She had needed her best friend more than ever in the last few months and Serena hadn't been there for her. Blair had been left to fend for herself as her world exploded around her all the while trying to keep the pieces together for others.
Her boyfriend didn't love her and she had doubts that she loved him. They cared for one another, even greatly cared, but whether they were truly in love, she doubted. There were no sparks, no passion. It was a relationship of convenience. Nate couldn't even be bothered to be supportive while she was a mess over her parents' divorce. He had spared the time to send her a bouquet of roses, what he believed to be her favorite flower, before taking off to spend the summer sailing or something of the sort. Both of them deserved better and yet neither of them were brave enough to admit it.
Her parents were too busy with their own lives to be concerned with hers. First, they had tossed the divorce on her. Then they had revealed the reason behind it – that her father had a secret boyfriend and they were tired of hiding it. As if that hadn't been bad enough, Eleanor had thrown herself headfirst into making sure her clothing line continued to thrive and all the friends she got to keep in the divorce saw her as happy and thriving, even if she had to take a handful of pills every morning to get there. And because the hits had kept coming, her father had moved to France with his boyfriend and left her to contend with her judgmental mother. It would be a lie to say she didn't resent him for it.
She continued through the motions of showering and drying off. She sat down at her vanity with a robe wrapped around her and went through her beauty routine, something she could have done in her sleep. She dried her hair and set to curling it, still on auto pilot. There was a knock on her door.
"Miss Blair? Miss Eleanor say be downstairs in twenty minutes," Dorota called through the door.
"Thank you, Dorota," Blair called back as she let a curl fall from the iron's barrel. Once she was done, she stood and stepped into her dress, calling for Dorota to come zip it. She ignored the maid's proclamations about how beautiful she looked. Dorota had to say that. She was paid to. She dismissed the maid and finished off her ensemble with accessories and shoes. The last touch was a headband with a large diamond brooch on one side. She checked once more to make sure the dark circles were well-hidden. They were.
"You're nearly late," her mother hissed as Blair glided down the stairs. "But this piece does look striking on your body. Be sure to casually drop it into conversation with Mr. Bass this evening that I designed it – gracefully of course, we don't want to appear as though we lack tact." Blair looked at her mom.
"Bart Bass is in real estate. The last time I checked, he bought buildings, not fashion lines," she reminded her.
"Watch your tongue, darling," Eleanor chided, taking her daughter's arm. She squeezed it tighter than necessary for a moment before leading Blair into the living room where a few guests had already gathered. "Now, mingle."
Blair put on her best mask and waltzed up to the closest guest, who just so happened to be the chair of this year's cotillion at which she would be making her debut. She was chatting animately with her when her mother called her once more. Blair glanced in her direction. Bart Bass had arrived and with him was his son. She hid her grimace well. She had managed to only speak with Chuck the one time, but that was enough for her. His behavior then and what she had read about since on Gossip Girl and heard second hand from Nate and her minions was simply vile.
"Excuse me," she said, politely dismissing herself. "Mother," she greeted she reached Eleanor's side. Eleanor, wearing her best mother costume, took Blair's arm once more.
"Bart, this is my daughter, Blair. Blair, I'd like you to meet Mr. Bart Bass," she introduced.
"Hello, Mr. Bass, it's wonderful to meet you," Blair said extending her hand. "New York has been abuzz with talk about how the great Bart Bass is returning to run Bass Industries' international headquarters."
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Miss Waldorf," Bart replied, taking Blair's hand with all the manners in the world. He dropped her hand and smiled at her as he put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. Blair noticed how icy blue his eyes were. "I believe you know my son, Charles?"
"We've met," Blair said evenly, nodding her head at Chuck.
"Nathaniel Archibald is Blair's boyfriend," Chuck explained to his father. "He's been kind enough to show me around St. Jude's this week. And by the way, Blair, you look stunning tonight." Blair forced herself to utter a polite thank you to Chuck. He winked at her covertly. She scoffed internally.
"Ah yes, the young man I met while I was waiting for you to dress for our dinner night before last," Bart nodded. "Will the Archibalds be joining us, Eleanor? I would like to meet Captain Archibald. I'm in need of a new accountant and I hear he is one of the best in New York." Blair squirmed. She had suspicions about the Captain's business practices she had pieced together by overheard snippets of conversations and accidental peeks at papers that happened to be lying around the Archibald living room.
"I'm afraid the Captain and Anne have made one last trip to Nantucket before the weather turns. Nathaniel is an avid sailer and went with them. You can't blame them for wanting to get one last weekend in before fall's chill sets in."
"Hardly," Bart agreed. Blair saw Chuck fighting to roll his eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from smirking.
"Blair, dear, why don't you show Charles around, introduce him to some of our guests? It must be quite an adjustment, coming all the way from Australia and starting a new school, all while trying to get settled in a new place," Eleanor said, giving Blair a look that told her not to disagree.
"It has been an adjustment," Chuck agreed, pouring on the charm. "Though this elegant affair you have put together in my father's honor will certainly help make the transition smoother." It was Blair's turn to fight against the urge to roll her eyes. Chuck was laying it on thick and her mother was too dense to see it.
"Oh, it's my pleasure, Charles," Eleanor said, falling into his trap. Bart gave Chuck a small nod of approval. "Do be sure to try the quiche. It is absolutely splendid."
"I will," Chuck agreed. "Perhaps Blair will show me the way?" He looked at her expectantly.
"Right this way," Blair said with her fake smile, turning towards the nearest member of the wait staff. Chuck fell into step beside her, smiling and sparing a polite nod at a middle-aged woman."Desperate for daddy's approval, much?" she muttered as they both took champagne flutes from a passing waiter.
"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black?" Chuck retorted with a raised eyebrow.
"Just so you know, the charming young man act doesn't work for you. You're too far ingrained in your sleazy ways for anyone under the age of thirty to buy it," Blair shot back.
Chuck tossed back the champagne in his flute in one swift motion.
"Got anything stronger, Waldorf?" he asked, ignoring her insult. "I'm going to need it if I'm going to be subjected to a room full of people suppressing their marital issues and prescription pill dependencies for the next three hours."
"No, we don't," Blair informed him. "This is an elegant affair, remember? Champagne and dessert wines are your only options this evening. Sorry."
"I'm Chuck Bass. Think again." Chuck reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and took out a monogrammed flask. He took a swig of it, then offered it to Blair.
"Disgusting," she said, turning her nose up at it.
"What? Queen Waldorf doesn't drink hard liquor?" Chuck taunted. He took another swing.
"I have class," Blair stated. "I don't drink from metal containers kept in pockets of jackets that have seen the inside of more hostiles than the women who work them."
"Look around, Waldorf," Chuck said, waving his hand at the room. "Everyone in this room – except you, of course – thinks I have class. Sipping from a hip flask won't change that."
"Contrary to what you may believe, Bass, everyone in this room thinks – or rather, knows – you are new money. They are placing their bets now on whether or not Bart Bass will squander his newfound wealth away." A dark look passed across Chuck's eyes. It seemed Blair had hit a nerve.
"My father has me to carry on the Bass legacy," he told her. "You, on the other hand, are relying on a marriage to a boy-not-yet-a-man you don't love to ensure the status of your future at the ripe old age of sixteen. A boy who, perhaps more importantly, doesn't love you." With that, Chuck pivoted on his Italian loafers and went to work the crowd without the help of Blair Waldorf.
Two hours later, Blair was at her wits end. Lily van der Woodsen had shown up and deflected Blair's usual battery of questions with a well-placed 'lovely to see you again, dear,' before excusing herself to speak with the same cotillion chair Blair had been chatting with earlier. She had kept her eye on Lily all evening, waiting for her chance. But it seemed Bart Bass was rather taken with the serial monogamist as he had barely left her side for more than a few minutes since their introduction.
Blair popped a piece of sushi into her mouth and chewed, her eyes trained on Lily and Bart as Lily threw her head back in laughter at something he had just said.
"Watch the sushi, dear. Just a couple extra pounds will make that dress look ghastly on your figure," Eleanor whispered as she sidled up next to Blair.
"I've only had a couple of pieces," Blair replied defensively
"On top of the quiche you were nibbling on earlier as well as the petits fours," Eleanor countered. "Not to mention the champagne. Blair, you know alcohol causes bloating."
"Of course," Blair replied with a tight smile, sitting her plate of sushi aside. She was starving, having purged everything she had eaten earlier, but her mother's words stung. "If you'll excuse me, mother, I'm going to freshen up a bit."
"You do that," Eleanor agreed.
Blair hurried out of the room and up the stairs. Once again, she locked herself in her bathroom, thinking briefly of how little it took to set her running to the bathroom these days. She skipped the ritual of turning on the shower since everyone was downstairs. Stopping just long enough to tie her hair back loosely, she stuck her finger down her throat for the second time that day. The contents of her stomach emptied, she rocked back on her heels and took a shaky deep breath.
It was times like this when she really wanted to talk to Serena. She thought Serena knew she often made herself sick, but had never said anything. More often than Serena would ever know, Blair had called her up and vented to her to prevent herself from assuming the position she was currently in. But Serena was gone, just like her father, and she was truly alone with no one to talk to about her insecurities or desires, her toilet her only friend.
The bathroom was suddenly suffocating. She stood and quickly brushed her teeth and reapplied her lipstick as she let her hair back down and readjusted a few stray pieces. In need of air, she hurried out to the balcony that jutted off of her room. She sucked in the New York air greedily, feeling comforted by the sounds of the city wafting up from below her. She held onto the banister for support as she breathed in deep, the polluted air refreshing as it entered her lungs.
"You okay, Waldorf?" Blair jumped and spun around to see Chuck Bass sitting on a lounge chair in the shadows.
"What are you doing out here?" she demanded. "Why were you in my room?"
"Relax," Chuck said, sitting forward so the dim light from inside fell across his face. He looked – weary. "You aren't the only one who needed some air. I figured this place had a balcony or a terrace somewhere. It just so happened the first one I found was through your room." Blair sighed and sat down on the other lounge.
"I'm fine," she told him.
"Fine doesn't equate with puking one's guts out," Chuck replied.
"It was probably the sushi," Blair lied. Something about the way Chuck was looking at her, as though he could see through her facade, made her uncomfortable.
"I had the sushi and I feel fine," Chuck countered. "As a matter of fact, plenty of people had the sushi and no one else has sprinted to the nearest bathroom."
"I'm fine," Blair said again, this time with more force.
"Whatever you say," Chuck replied, leaning back on the chair again. He took out a cigarette and a lighter and lit it. Blair wrinkled her nose, but didn't say anything.
"Why are you up here?" Blair asked. "People don't wander away from a party all by themselves without a good reason. Especially when the party is in their father's honor."
"Like I said, I needed some air."
"Chuck," Blair said again. Chuck sighed.
"Being the heir to the Bass empire is no easy task," he confessed.
"Your dad seems like a decent guy," Blair mentioned, casually digging for more out of him. Chuck snorted.
"He knows how to behave amongst those of his same social class, if that's what you mean." He looked at Blair. "Who is that blond lady he's been talking to all evening? I'm not sure I've been introduced to her. If I have, I don't remember."
"That's Lily van der Woodsen," Blair told him. "She's not my favorite person on the Upper East Side right now."
"van der Woodsen," Chuck repeated. "Any relation to Serena van der Woodsen?" Blair's head shot up.
"Do you know Serena?" she asked. Chuck shook his head.
"No, just what I read on Gossip Girl. I had to ask Nate who 'S' was that she kept referring to. He filled me in." He watched as a wave of sadness washed over Blair. He found himself feeling bad for her, a very un-Chuck reaction.
"Lily is Serena's mother," Blair confirmed. "She's also the keeper of many secrets on the Upper East Side."
"Such as?" Chuck pressed.
"Such as where here daughter is. Among other things."
"What's she like?" Chuck continued. She was too interested in his father for him not to be curious about the woman.
"As far as parents go around here, she's one of the better ones. Until recently anyway. She's on more committees than I can keep track of and she's been married four, five times. I've lost count."
"Does she just have Serena?"
"She has a son, too, Eric. He's a couple years younger than us. He's in Florida, visiting relatives or something." Chuck frowned.
"During the school year?" he asked. Blair shrugged. He decided to drop the Lily topic. For now.
"So you and Archibald, huh? You realize there aren't many young men on the Upper East Side – or anywhere else – who would be happy to bone the same girl for the last however many year." As he had suspected she would, Blair squirmed uncomfortably.
"Must you turn every conversation to sex?" she asked.
"It's a gift," Chuck said with a smirk. He took another drag from his cigarette then dropped it to the ground and snuffed it out with his shoe. Blair raised an eyebrow. Chuck rolled his eyes and picked up the stub. He tossed it over the railing which made Blair scoff.
"You have no manners, Bass."
"You certainly seem to have enough for the both of us," Chuck retorted.
"You're an ass."
"I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck shot back.
"And is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"It will." Blair rolled her eyes.
"Since you seem to know so much about me, how about you tell me something about you?" she challenged.
"Like I said, I'm Chuck Bass. And that's all you need to know."
"Seriously, Bass. Tell me something about yourself."
"I like expensive whiskey and cheap women."
"You're disgusting," Blair stated. Chuck shrugged. Blair thought for a moment.
"I know. Tell me about your mother. I haven't met her yet. In fact, I haven't heard any mention of her. Did she stay in Australia?" It was Chuck's turn to look uncomfortable. "Chuck?" she pressed.
"My mother is dead," Chuck said in a monotone. Blair's eyes widened.
"Oh. Chuck. I'm..."
"Sorry?" Chuck interrupted. "Don't be." He stood. "I'm going back to the party. You stay out here and pretend it was the sushi that made you sick." And again, Chuck left Blair by herself, feeling as though she had said too much about something she knew nothing about.
I was thinking of starting a Twitter and/or blog to sort of keep up with my stories/talk about Gossip Girl. I'd love y'all's feedback on that either in reviews or PMs if you'd like to give it!